


Hypocrisy

by dragonsong (NekoAisu)



Series: FFXIV Write 2019 [7]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Gender-Neutral Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Morally Ambiguous Character, Other, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-12 22:24:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20571926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NekoAisu/pseuds/dragonsong
Summary: Just this once, he will rest.





	Hypocrisy

**Author's Note:**

> For FFXIVWrite 2019!
> 
> Day 7 | Forgiven
> 
> Tumblr post here: https://ffxivimagines.tumblr.com/post/187580823714/sea-wolf-coast-to-coast-ffxivwrite-prompt-7

What must we do to be forgiven? What could erase the sins of antiquity when they are so heavily embedded in the laws of their isolated, little universe? Emet-Selch, for all his immortality has granted him, only has the answer to one of these questions.

He must reform the world in Zodiark’s image.

It would be incredibly convenient if the Warrior of Light and their merry little band of Scion friends could just lay down, rollover, and die. Unfortunately, they seem predisposed to evade nearly all his attempts at snuffing them out. It feels not unlike dealing with pests.

If Emet-Selch had learned anything from his many centuries piloting and puppeteering the evolution of the Spoken, it would be that the Crystal Exarch was worthy of the highly decorated seat of First Cardinal Worry—or, in common terms, that of the top spot in Emet’s shit list—due to his boundless wisdom and time-related fuckery. Had the Crystal Exarch been a few more times Rejoined, he might have posed a true threat. However, he is just as mortal as the rest of them, as evidenced by his propensity to bleed all over Amaurot.

“Tell me, did it hurt to know you were dooming those you left behind? They aren’t truly alive and yet you cling to the thought of saving them. Why is that?”

_Why do you consider your world worthy of redemption when mine is not? What makes you feel so special? Your forced immortality? The Rejoinings if your fractured soul when Unei and Doga gave back what was rightfully yours?_

He has so many questions, too many to ask, and settles for pressing one of his many claws into the vulnerable curve of the Exarch’s throat. He can afford to wait. The Warrior of Light will find him, drawn by the pulse of his familiarly damning aether, and he will have what he wants. The knowledge to stop Hydaelyn from sundering their world all over again and the beast of burden to burn out all the little creatures that have grown ever so prolifically inside the corpse of Emet-Selch’s universe.

He may never be forgiven for his sins in allowing Hydaelyn to be summoned, nor the resultant loss of life and liberty, but by Zodiark’s will he swears it will be done—the world will be his to shape back to how it was meant to be. Not this mockery of earth and aether the Warrior holds so dear.

He misses what they used to be, but not nearly enough to take pity on their warped form. They will be the vessel for his ultimate triumph. He will see it done.

And maybe, just maybe, he would be able to look them in the eye one more time as equals.

The Exarch coughs, the sound weak and too wet to be safe for a mortal body, rasping, “You are a hypocrite, my friend. We have known.”

And Emet forgets about his questions or their answers in favor of ensuring that the Exarch will not mock him. “_Known_.” How could they have? There is no way they would have been so enlightened as to see and understand his machinations—much less the underlying need—but the man smiles at him, dried blood cracking and scabs opening all over again. Guileless. Omnipotent.

_Mocking._

Emet has never wanted to break something more in his life. He does, but by bit, and is interrupted by that sham of a Champion arriving to retrieve their friend (lover, his mind corrects, and he feels jealousy rear its ugly head at the thought) all the while spilling Light into his domain.

It is always this way, the upright hero stopping the evil Ascians. In every era, in every world, in every way he would like to gather them into his arms and make them remember.

He will be stopped.

He expects less of a fight from the familiar stranger wearing the tatters of a soul that should not belong to them. They evade him and call forth all the strength that’s been tempered into unbreaking steel just to hope to scratch him. But he falters.

In a moment of weakness, he sees a reflection of how they once were and does not tamp down on their Light fiercely enough. They burn through him, rending the form he’s guarded so closely to nothing more than a shell.

He is colored with their aether. Tired. Frustrated. At peace.

_Remember us._

And they gather _him _into their arms to whisper forgiveness and hold tightly as they can, craving something they yet lack, and Emet-Selch allows himself to die.

Just this once, he will rest.

**Author's Note:**

> hi im kiri and i cant write emet in character for the life of me
> 
> xiv tunglr | https://ffxivimagines.tumblr.com/  
main | https://kiriami-sama.tumblr.com/  
main | https://twitter.com/flamingacekiri


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